


And The Devil Said my Name

by SlashyJazz



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dark, Canonical Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Paganism, Rape, Supernatural Elements, semi-graphic birth, seriously just disregard, what you know about the canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:21:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22243993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlashyJazz/pseuds/SlashyJazz
Summary: They said he was the devil incarnate. That he was possessed by Satan because no normal child was as smart as he was, could speak as articulate as he could, was not as freakish as he acted.They called him wicked and deceitful.But Tom knew the face of the Devil, knew he existed in a green eyed orphan named Harry Potter.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Comments: 8
Kudos: 303





	And The Devil Said my Name

They said he was the devil incarnate. That he was possessed by Satan because no normal child was as smart as he was, could speak as articulate as he could, was not as freakish as he acted. 

It was not his fault he could memorize the lessons given or the English language was easy to learn without the slur and slang of the locals to hinder him. Nor was it any fault of his nearly everyone around him were simple minded gutter rats who would not know their arses from mouths unless told. 

He was a freak because he was smart, a danger to fools because he was different, but he was _not_ the Devil. 

Tom kept to himself in every way possible and tried to not associate with the child younger, the same age as him or older. Every generation of orphans had grown to hate him or were learning to do so, words were as poisonous as monkshood or the rat pellets Mr. Hendrickson laid in every nook and cranny they could afford to place them. 

He read his books while the children hollered and tackled one another on the sparse grass covered front, the creaky rusty fencing which enclosed the orphans was as depressing as the actual building. 

They called him wicked and deceitful. 

As if the orphans and staff did not have two faces upon their bodies. One which was worn everyday of the week full of sneers, snide comments and hateful glares - mostly for him because of his ‘freakish’ nature and the other they kept tucked away for potential adopters and benefactors. 

The second face rarely made an appearance, the new visage would worm it’s way from their flesh like a caterpillar emerging from a cocoon to display bright new colours while the true face wiggled and squirmed under false happiness and humanity. 

The other children and staff were the true shape shifters. Wicked in ways he could only describe with screams and tears, horrible to those weaker and different, but they were not the Devil either, just as he was not. 

Satan was said to have fallen from the sky in a flash of lightning so bright it blinded anyone who witnessed his descent to earth, forever kept in darkness as he was bound to live in. Tom remembered the preacher screaming it from the front of the church where the congregation nodded along like little lambs and the other orphans along with himself were forced to sit at the front because 

“Poor poor children, look at their dirty clothes.”

“Mother and fatherless children, I wonder what happened to their parents…”

“Nothing to their name, look at how big their shoes are. Come along dear don’t linger too close to them.”

_Abandoned. Helpless. Hopeless. Trash._

They needed the most prayers so Mrs. Cole had they sit quietly up front, her square face all hard lines and thin lips pursed only opening to agree with whatever babble the preacher was shouting. 

“I saw Satan fall like lightning from heaven. I have given you authority to trample on snakes and scorpions and to overcome all the power of the enemy; nothing will harm you. However, do not rejoice that the spirits submit to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven! Luke 1:18-20!” 

Tom’s eyed the back of the curly head of hair of the boy a row in front of him, hair black like midnight and as wild as the beasts Tom read about in the donated storybooks. 

Harry Potter appeared on the doorstep of Wool’s Orphanage three years ago during a horrible storm. He had smelled of smoke, pale cheeks smudged still with ash and frame small under the heavy blanket the officer huddled him under. Tom was one of the many children who peaked from the stairway at the newest orphan. 

Less food, less space, another person to hate Tom. 

The children murmured then as they all heard the officer speak about the apparent fire the boy was the only survivor of, his relatives upstanding people with their young son were all burned beyond identification, corpses charred and it was simply a _miracle_ that Harry escaped in the nick of time. 

Tom was sure he was the only person to notice the happy glint in the green eyes partially hidden under the black curly fringe and those green eyes met his brown and a shiver so powerful had ran down his spine he held onto the creaky banister so not to fall. 

Thunder rumbled in the heavens strong enough the vibrations shook the orphanage structure and then a strike of fork lightening struck the ground outside a few feet away from the open front door and the policeman. Tom had flinched, eyes closing from the insanely bright flash, the children old and young emitting various sounds of fear from yelps to down right screaming. 

Opening his eyes he found the new orphan in the same place but the officer and Mrs. Cole both stumbled away from the door, eyes wide and leveled on the burnt hole left in the already broken cobble pathway in wake of the lightning.

* * *

Harry Potter was easily the most interesting person within the orphanage walls as well as the most dangerous, an aura of deep trouble which was veiled by the angelic face and personality he presented. 

Tom was 10 years old, he wasn’t ignorant to when someone was playing a prank or ruse and Harry Potter did so everyday of his life since coming to Wool’s orphanage smelling of death and fire. 

Tom kept his distance while following after the boy, made sure his footsteps remained silent and breathing inaudible but like a ghost Potter always managed to disappear around a corner leaving Tom clueless and very frustrated at the continuance of the magic trick. 

No one else could see his true face, the second visage they like to show to someone rich or a potential parent. Just as the foster family or benefactor was blind to their ugly side, they were also blind to Potter’s. 

Potter’s true face was not ugly however. 

Tom would go as far to say it was beautiful. The curving of pink lips in a wide grin, flash of canines that gave way to two dimples along the cherubic cheeks. Pale skin stretching to accommodate the smile and green eyes - oh his eyes shined with unhindered cruelty, barely contained in the human form. In the correct lighting they glowed something unholy and evil, a green so bright and sickly it made Tom feel as though he was being submerged, lungs tight and head light. 

Tom was also aware that Harry only showed this side to him or when he was in near proximity.

The Great Pretender. 

The devil was said to be beautiful, a being created by God himself to show the power of the almighty, the brilliance that was the creator and so his work, his creation was constructed to replicate the supremacy that was God. 

“Again the word of the LORD came to me, saying son of man, take up a lament for the king of Tyre and tell him that this is what the Lord GOD says: You were the seal of perfection, full of wisdom and perfect in beauty. You were in Eden, the garden of God.”

Tom was not religious in the slightest meaning of the word because then it would mean he believed in a fat man sitting on a throne of gold in the clouds beyond a golden gate which would welcome the Believers into paradise. The babble the preacher would spew was simply that, ignorant screeching from a man paid to provide hope and spread propaganda to the masses, a systematic chain of mental enslavement many did not recognize because Paradise awaited. 

Tom however did believe in the supernatural, in instances which could not be explained. Of spirits and ghouls, of evil and purgatory. He believed in creatures of unimaginable power and destruction. These were the things he held faith in, not for some fantastical reason of demented misconceptions but because he simply knew these things and creatures existed, a gut feeling which drove him from certain areas of London where the alleys were filled oppressive energy. 

Gut feelings which made him stay in his room at night when the wood creaked and the walls groaned, the sound of nails being dragged along the walls as if someone ventured beyond the door. 

Children woke up sometimes was thin lines over their bellies and arms, at worse people disappeared from the streets within those alleys. 

It was that same awareness that twisted his intestines and slithered up his throat like a freshly molten snake that told him Harry Potter was not a simple child like him. He was something more and - 

“Every kind of precious stone adorned you: ruby, topaz, and diamond, beryl, onyx, and jasper, sapphire, turquoise, and emerald. Your mountings and settings were crafted in gold, prepared on the day of your creation. You were an anointed as _a_ guardian cherub, for I had ordained you. You were on the holy mountain of God; you walked among the fiery stones.”

Tom froze, heart up-ticking from calm beats to that of a frightened rabbit, thundering, pounding, escalating until he could feel the rush of blood under his skin travelling through his veins and to the constricting organ which kept him alive. The voice behind him was all too familiar, smooth and childlike with an accentuation on certain words that made him stand out from the crowd; just like Tom but not like Tom. 

“From the day you were created you were blameless in your ways until wickedness was found in you. By the vastness of your trade, you were filled with violence, and you sinned. So I drove you in disgrace from the mountain of God, and I banished you, _O guardian cherub_ , from among the fiery stones. Your heart grew proud of your beauty; you corrupted your wisdom because of your splendor so I cast you to the earth.”

Dark curls filled Tom’s vision before slanted green eyes peered into his brown, the colour even more vibrant up close and like a skittish rabbit Tom tried to scramble away but found himself caged in against the brown walls of the orphanage. 

Harry Potter leaned in closer, pale skin pink lips, hair falling gracefully around his face and he even smelled pleasant, all qualities of what Tom would think an angel would be like. 

“Ezekiel 28:11–17.” Harry murmured and he was close enough that Tom could smell the peppermint on his breath, teeth white unlike so many of the orphans carrying cavities. 

“Why do you avoid me Tom?” 

The words were innocent enough but there was a sickly tangle of his innards, a warning blaring at the back of his head and the hairs upon his nape standing when a hand rested on his neatly brushed brown hair.

_Do not lie._

“Because I see you for what you really are.” 

The words came out shakier than he wanted but Harry simply hummed, the hand slipping down to rest briefly over his cheek then over his chest where his heart was still racing against itself, a one man marathon of fear and he could see the delight _gleam_ from within the green pools. 

“And what is it that I am or am not. What relation or comparison are you connecting me to Tom?” 

Harry leaned closer until they were nearly nose to nose. 

“You are different.” he refused to stutter like some incompetent fool “Just like me.”

The laugh startled him and he flinched not because it was hideous or grating when in fact it sounded beautiful like the owner who possessed it. He flinched because Harry did not laugh. He smiled but never laughed, yet here he was, a great belly heaving chuckle as if Tom had told him the greatest comedic stand-up in history. 

“Just like _you_?” the condescending tone was tailgated by a piteous look aimed in his direction, a look which made his pride bristle. 

“You are much smarter than that dear Tom.” the hand caressed his cheek once more “So much smarter than these insects.”

Tom suddenly could not breath, the very air squeezed out of his lungs as if a hand was wrapped around them and no matter how hard he tried the oppressive feeling would not fade. 

His lungs _would not work_ and just like that the force lifted and Tom drew in a ragged breath over and over again until his lungs were filled and Harry was gone.

* * *

It was no secret to those in Wool’s Orphanage that Mr. Hendrickson liked his sexual exploitations young. Anything under 18 years of age and lacking of consent the better. 

Tom had once stumbled upon the man groping a girl a few years older than him, her blue eyes wide in fear and confusion, pain evident due to his hand under her night gown and Tom could have sworn he heard something sounding vaguely wet below. 

Hendrickson would stalk the hallways at night, often hiding in the dark crevices of the orphanage waiting for one of the girls to walk pass on her way to the loo, it was often those who could not hold the urge until morning or the new ones who were now learning. 

He troubled the boys sometimes as well, those that were pretty and still hairless, their voices untouched by puberty and any hints of masculinity non-existent. Boys like Harry were his favourite, pretty things with pretty mouths.

Pretty boys like Tom. 

During the day when he was simply the maintenance man and gardener Tom could see the barely concealed lust burning in his grey eyes as he gazed at them. 

He knew better than to approach Tom, knew better than to try and touch him because unlike the children Tom could protect himself, his abilities provided the chance to practice on the man several times and while he did not like any of the other orphans he found a satisfaction in making the man scream silent in agony. 

Mrs. Cole was aware of it all just as they were all aware that the normally unflappable matron whose clothing was always pressed and creased accordingly, hair fashioned as one in her position should have it and words as educated as someone like her could - she was a heavy drinker, a drunkard when the children went off to bed and the lights dimmed. 

She would slur about her dead husband and the woman, the young woman, the little girl he chose over her. About how she caught him with one of the not-yet-but-soon-adult girls of the orphanage rutting on his desk like an animal in heat. 

It was why Hendrickson never got thrown in jail for his crimes and why Mrs. Cole had yet to be reported. 

They both fed from one another’s plates, greedy starving unsavory creatures who used the benefits of secrets to keep on with their disgusting past-times. 

Hendrickson could rape, molest and harass the children of Wool’s Orphanage because Mrs. Cole saw it as revenge against the nameless girl who stole her husband, and Hendrickson would drink with her and allow the intoxicated woman to rant her frustration. 

The staff members were no better, each one carrying a secret Tom had discovered long ago. 

Lucy Sanders a blond frail looking woman who worked in the kitchens was having an affair with the butcher while her husband a military officer was away, it helped that both men were blond haired brown eyed because both her two young children belonged to the butcher and Tom would bet what little he possessed the gentle swell of her belly was the making of the man’s seed as well. 

Bethanne Winters was nearly as bad as Hendrickson but instead she preferred her partners to be young and naive, the orphanage boys who were just past the cusp of puberty and as inexperienced as new born lambs. Her area of operation was down in the basement, her sounds of ecstasy often filtering through the vents. 

Martha Daniels who the nicest of all the caretakers and also the youngest had the responsibility of caring for her many brothers and sisters left by her parents, so she stole money from Mrs. Cole whenever the woman got sloppy drunk and used Hendrickson’s penchant for young bodies to entertain him outside of the orphanage. 

Tom watched as the children ran and shrieked, voices so unnervingly high his ear drums ached even from the distance. None of them were saints either, little monsters in neatly sewn flesh but he could see it near bursting at the seams sometimes. 

Amy Benson liked to act the perfect little angel - a mantle which was stolen from her on Harry’s arrival, and since then she tried harder and harder to regain the title. Her golden curls always brushed and the dress she wore was always the prettiest or so she said. Tom witnessed her lock one of the older girls in the bathroom after Hedrickson skulked his way inside. Good little Amy had done it out of revenge for the other girl telling her that she was no better than any of them - abandoned trash would always be trash never mind how she dolled herself up. 

Dennis Bishop had a habit of finding roadkill, his horde of decayed animal corpses stashed in a hole of the old tree out back where no one ventured because of the dank smell of mold. 

Billy Stubbs was the golden boy of the under funded home, snitching on Tom since he had been old enough to form the bare requirement for articulation and to that day was the bane of Tom’s existence. He was the reason Mrs. Cole had called the preacher on him to have him exorcised, the scar from the pentagram still on Tom’s back where the knife had dug in deep. He was the reason Tom had missed dinner so many times during the years because Mrs. Cole favored Billy’s lies over Tom’s truths. 

Tom hated them all. 

An entire den of rapists, drunkards, thieves, creeps and adultery sycophants. 

They all went to church every Sunday and sang the hymns, got blessed and prayed as eagerly as the most devoted, the masks carefully in place to fool anyone who would take pity on the ‘poor orphaned children and the people who helped them’. 

Biting his lip Tom lowered his gaze to avoid the piercing green one from across the shabby lawn, the creaky swing-set having a lone occupant and though he made no effort to push and pull himself back and forth on the swing he still moved. 

Harry had given him extra attention after they brief conversation, his eyes always managing to find Tom and he believed the other boy made a game out of it. Whenever Tom’s heart ticked up a beat, the anticipation and excitement or perhaps was it fear; Harry’s lips would always twitch, eyes crinkling in the corners. 

“For such _are_ false apostles, deceitful workers, transforming themselves into apostles of Christ. And no wonder. For Satan himself transforms himself into an angel of light. Therefore _it is_ no great thing if his ministers also transform themselves into ministers of righteousness, whose end will be according to their works…”

Tom murmured, brown eyes peaking up to see Harry tilt his head, slim shoulders shaking with laughter before muddy shorts and high socks obstructed his view and Tom craned his head back slightly to stare at the sneering face of Billy Stubbs. 

“I didn’t know ‘hat freaks could say bible verses.” two other boys joined him until Tom was bracketed in and he stood slowly only to be pushed back down. 

“I asked you a question yea?” Billy crossed his arms and Tom stared defiantly back. Out of all the children who avoided him like the black plague it was always Billy and his cronies who always came back and one day soon Tom would have to deal with them permanently. 

“You made a statement, not a question.” he answered back and received a shove for his efforts. 

“You’ve been real quite lately Riddle, what freakish shit you up to huh?” 

He remained silent and stared at the small space between the bigger boys until he was pushed to the side by one, the other pushing him back until Billy shoved him hard enough backwards that his head cracked on the hard surface of the house. He didn’t need to touch the area to know it was bleeding, the warm trickle of it running down his neck was enough of a tell. 

“Better watch it _Riddle_ , wouldn’t want Mrs. Cole to lock you in the attic again…” Billy grinned and turned on his heel, the other two boys following and Tom wished he could make the other boys suffer now but it was too out in the open for a display of his abilities. 

Sleep that night was fitful and unattainable, a niggling feeling of frustration having built up since his encounter to Billy and his mind ran several simulations as to how to get the other boy back, how to make him _cry_ without the use of his powers directly on the other. 

The hairs on the back of his neck stood tall and Tom froze where he laid facing the wall, the familiar feeling of being under the intense gaze of something dangerous establishing itself and Tom slowly turned around to face his now open door. 

Harry stood outside the frame, green eyes almost glowing in the dim lighting with the unmistakable form of Billy Stubb’s rabbit resting peacefully in his arms. The white lagomorph’s (because despite what the tutor said rabbits were _not_ rodents) ear twitched back and forth picking up the odd sounds within the old building. Harry smile was sharp as it was soft and he turned silently leaving Tom to follow without a word. 

He finally caught up to the other boy by the banister, the white rabbit appeared to be sleeping now and Harry just continued to pet the no doubt soft fur. 

“Do you know why creatures like rabbits and rats have the ability to breed so easily and reproduce so quickly Tom?”

He took the final two steps until he was beside the other boy, Devil or not Tom was second to no one. 

“The weakest animals are usually the ones who have the ability to reproduce quicker. A biological reaction to survival and the passing of genes as opposed to the more powerful predatory animals.”

“Then it can be said that humans are just like rodents and rabbits. _Prey_ animals. Yes?”

Tom swallowed and nodded stiffly. 

“Humans are a plague Tom. Disgusting creatures who infect this world by simply existing. Much worse than rabbits because at least the rabbits have the common decency of remaining ignorant, but humans want to learn and explore. To elevate and ascend to greater heights they have no business approaching.” 

Tom was unsure if Harry was angry for a moment until he say a wide grin curve at those pink lips, green eyes glowing with the same perverse lust Hendrickson possessed, the dimples of his cheeks indenting. 

“A world full of sinners who breed without conscious thought creating more sinful beings to pollute His creation. A fitting end for that boastful bastard. One creation destroying the next, draining and bleeding and suffocating this green and blue rock. His precious _humans_.”

Tom remained silent for a long moment, brown eyes sliding from the peaceful rabbit to the gleeful features of the 10 year old boy. So many questions were swarming his mind and he raced to construct them in order in the event he decided to ask any of the numerous inquiries. Harry for the most part during their life at Wool’s had ignored his presence and only acknowledged him in passing, never took parting in actively avoiding him nor did he try to torment him. 

Harry Potter just existed. 

A reminder that he was there but made no great impact on the daily activities of Wool’s Orphanage. 

The staff, children and the matron adored him because of his aristocratic looks and polite mannerisms and none ever suspected he was as ‘freakish’ as Tom was due to the fact the boy never reacted, never retaliated… or maybe it was he never got caught. 

“Why now.” 

Harry slid two warm-cold eyes towards him before turning his entire body and though they were the same height and perhaps the same weight it felt as though the other boy was looming over him, a gigantic shadow which dwarfed him. 

“I grow bored.” the answer was awfully anticlimactic and Tom found himself frowning, Harry smiling softly, sweetly even. 

“What are you.” 

“What do you believe I am?” 

It was a heavy question and his answer could change everything, could either enrage creature wearing the skin of an innocent boy or - honestly Tom had not formulated an _or_ for the situation. 

“You are the Devil, or at least something akin to him.” Tom eyed him up and down, a small sneer marring his features. “However you are nothing as was described in the Bible.” it was slightly disappointing. 

“I am _A_ Devil. Hell has many of my kind who serve under Lucifer; or Satan if you will. We congregate in places were negative energy is abundant, where sin will occur and the heavenly light of the _Father, Son and Holy Spirit_ will not convene.” 

“Why are you telling me this.” his heart was pounding and he knew Harry could hear it, the twitch of his lips he always did and the slow glide of green down to Tom’s chest. 

“Why? Because I have chosen you Tom Marvolo Riddle. Your soul sings to me like a choir of angels, beautiful and bright.” the irony was not lost on him.

“Chosen me for what? I have agreed to nothing.”

Harry cocked his head to the side “But you will.” he retorted “You will desire what many humans wish for but shall never attain, your soul will break apart to acquire your prize and that shall be your ultimate downfall. I have seen your future just as I am seeing you now.”

“...what are you talking about? My future? H-How can -” 

“Immortality Tom. You may not crave it now but as you grow you will, like an itch under your skin to remain alive because to fall into Death’s grasp would mean you are nothing more but a simple human, nothing but a simple rodent just like the other prey.” 

“You can’t-”

“You are weak as you are now. Foolish and young. A worm to be trodden upon and a meat suit to discard of, but you have potential. Magnitudes of embryonic energy of which I have not seen in centuries.”

“And what do you get out of giving me immortality?” he got straight to the point because Devil or not, no one did anything without a reason. 

“I get your soul. Untarnished, untouched, whole and beautiful.” Harry crooned before twisting to the side, the rabbit being set down on the banister “However that is neither here or now, as it is you still have growing to do, maturity to reach.” 

“I don’t understand how can you just -”

"Do not repay evil with evil or insult with insult. On the contrary, repay evil with blessing, because to this you were called so that you may inherit a blessing. 1 Peter 3:9… do you believe in forgiveness Tom. In turning a blind eye or cheek. In letting _God_ exact justice upon those who have wronged you.”

Tom sneered and his answer was instantaneous “No.”

“The Bible speaks of forgiveness, of loving thy neighbor even if they should not love you back. A book which also praises the stoning of human women and the murder of innocents.” he gently stroked the rabbit’s ears, hands moving from the snowy white head down to it’s rump. 

“Humans really are marvelous. They commit cruelty and expect none back, such selfishness, it is delicious.” 

Harry stepped away from the banister after tying a thin rope around it’s neck and still the rabbit did not move and not for the first time did Tom wonder if the other boy told it not to. He had seen how animals reacted to Potter, a varying degree of fear and absolute aggressiveness, but the rabbit was completely docile. 

“Make the rabbit levitate over the banister Tom.” the words were said casually enough but when Harry spoke it usually had a meaning hidden under, a twist of words with traps laden to ensnare him, and Tom carefully analyzed the white fluff balls before stretching out his hand towards it. 

It took several seconds and for each passing second he could feel the heavy gaze of the boy on him threatening to consume him should he fail and just when his innards were all but twisted in apprehension, in the _what if_ , the rabbit was picked up by an invisible force and carried over the edge. It barely twitched. 

“Make it stand up right.” it was nothing short of a command and Tom bristled at being ordered about but this was hardly Mrs. Cole or Billy and Tom had not lived this long by being foolishly ignorant. 

The rabbit shivered as it’s front paws were lifted in the air, the soft white underbelly baring and Tom watched as a thin white line appeared in the pure colour, the line travelling from it’s chest down to the tail. Tom could only stare as the line became a cut and the cut opened up to expose the animal’s insides, blood bubbling just so behind the seams of the thin cut but none of the red or internal organs spilled out. 

Looking at Harry under his fringe of brown hair Tom let the rabbit drop from the air, a high pitched squeak the first sound the creature made for the night. Leaning over the railing he watched as the white fur was stained red, as the blood gushed from the dissection and it’s small organs flopped out from the struggling body, _fallingfalling_ until they landed with a wet splat on the ground below. 

The only things that remained partially within it were the intestines, the ropy innards still attached but hanging beautifully out of it. As macabre as it was Tom was delighted to know come morning Billy would be in pain at seeing his prized pet - the only person allowed to have one - hanging from the stairway banister gutted. 

Tom could not help but smile, facial muscles unused to the movement ached a bit but he still turned to Harry and almost choked on air when he found the boy almost nose to nose with him. Tom stepped back and Harry came closer until Tom was pressed against the supposedly ancient balustrade with the other boy bracketing him in. 

Green serpentine eyes stared at him until Tom’s adverted his gaze and a cool hand snaked it’s way up to his neck, the next cupping his cheek and Tom felt the barest impressions of lips brush his own before Harry was gone as if he had been nothing but an apparition of the night. 

That night when he slept he dreamed for the first time of sex. 

His body being covered by Harry’s because those green eyes could only belong to one person. The touches along his rib cage and spine lit up like fire and the lips which brushed his own earlier than night now seared hot as they kissed. 

Tom woke up to the screams of Billy Stubbs and to his night pants sticky from his very first dream induced orgasm.

* * *

Harry was growing more and more angry as the days passed, that much Tom could tell. The usually impeccable ‘I am innocent’ face grew deeper and deeper with frown lines and a semi permanent sneer, the emerald gems cold and his lips a thin line. 

Insects or not the people of Wool’s Orphanage made sure to steer clear of the normally sweet boy and Tom… Tom observed him from afar before orbiting the circle of pliable ire and then a few weeks short of his birthday when the ground was covered in snow and the trees bare, he sat down next to Harry, shoulders nearly brushing and it felt almost companionable. 

“Your mask is slipping.” Tom murmured and was rewarded with neither words nor acknowledgement. 

The silence was suffocating but Tom persisted on “Do you not care what they think?”

“And _why_ would I care what my food source thinks Tom. Do you wonder whether the cow bemoans its fate as it’s led to slaughter for your beef, or the thoughts of a the fish plucked from the water?”

Tom flinched slightly at ‘food source’ because that was truly all humans were to someone like Harry. Food and toys. 

Harry turned to him and grinned, face seeming older and younger all at once but his eyes were still the same frigid cold that chilled Tom more than the bleak nights. 

“A man will come to you on your birthday. A wizard with the offer of a school to learn what he thinks you must.”

“And I am to turn him away?”

“No you silly little flea.” the mockery bit into Tom whose ears turned red at the slip.

“You are to accept his offer with the graciousness that you have accepted mines. Play the perfect little pet of the righteous side, gather all information you can think of that will aid you in becoming what I envision for you and _only then_ will I answer all those questions bubbling away under your skin.”

Harry turned away to stare out at the empty streets, the pulsating echo of energy vibrating from the body of an 11 year old was mildly disturbing but Tom remained. 

“Why are you so angry.” 

Harry was silent for a long time, green tracking the falling of snowflakes as if he could identify the difference and uniqueness of each. 

“Because our time here is soon over.” 

Two days before his birthday Tom dreamt of Martha, Bethanne and Lucy. Of a great beast of a man with two protruding black horns which carried a flame between the two onyx stained ivory. The powerful legs of a goat but the remaining was all man. 

Tom dreamed he watched as the beast rut between the legs of each woman, their faces contorting from pain to absolute bliss, eyes rolled back partially and drool falling from their open mouths as he took them again and again in turns until their bodies could hold no more. 

The focus shifted to Emily Walters and Riley McKintosh. The girls younger than the three staff members at 16 and 14, both young girls virgins and devout Christians. 

Tom felt a perverseness creep up his spine as he watched, a third person spectator as the hulking creature of half man half buck did the same to the girls, Riley screaming so loudly his ears rang and he watched as both bleed from the large intrusion. 

A small voice in the back of his head told him that the thing he was witnessing rape the girls, who had defiled the women was Harry. The great hooves pitch black as the fur that lined the muscular legs and carried all the way up to his pelvis where human flesh gave way to a thick torso, powerful arms and a strong jaw. Pointed ears, horns and goat feet aside, Tom thought Harry was quite handsome. 

The blood dripping to the floor was mixing with white - semen, his mind supplied and Tom looked up from the floor to the burning eyes of the Devil, large hands holding down Riley but all of the attention was on him and Tom preened. 

Waking up with a gasp his toes curled as the after shocks of his orgasm rippled through him and he stared with disdain down at his crotch. 

The dream was placed on the back burner until February came and Tom watched along with the other occupants of the orphanage as five bellies swelled and all eyes turned to Hendrickson who looked just as confused and bewildered. 

Tom was the only one to turn to Harry who was less on edge now and calmly eating the porridge for breakfast. 

He watched with baited breath as the stomachs continued to grow until the life laying under the skin began to move, some middles bigger than others but the children under the tightly drawn skin pushed and kicked whenever Harry went near as if they could sense their sire just beyond their reach. 

A few hours before Tom was to wake up to depart for King’s Cross Station, platform 9 and ¾, he found himself wide awake, heart thundering and sweat gathering upon his body. Tom felt feverish but on closer inspection had none, in fact he would say the room was quite cold. 

“Tom.” he sat up quickly at the sound of his name, Harry by his open door hand out stretched and Tom wasted no time in scrambling from the bed to take it, the cool hand in his warm one. Walking along the creaking hallways of Wool’s Orphanage he observed the other boy who seemed to be in high spirits, a slight curve of his lips and the way he tugged Tom closer as indication. 

Stopping at the door to the the dining room, the tables and chairs missing and in the very center was a huge pentagram drawn in red. A quick glance to the corners of the room showed Mrs. Cole and Hendrickson dead, bellies split wide and faces etched in permanent fear and pain.

Good. 

Laying in the pentagram was Riley, Emily, Martha, Bethanne and Lucy. Their legs spread wide and each naked, bare breasts on display and rounded bellies protruding almost grotesquely now. They reminded him of Billy Stubb’s rabbit, docile in the face of something infinitely dangerous. 

Harry said nothing, only tilted his head ever so slightly to the left as if listening to something and from between Martha’s legs a flood of water erupted followed by the other women and girls. The liquid gathering on the painted pagan circle before it evaporated, the bloody lines soaking up the water with a bright red flare of power. 

Harry had yet to let go of his hand, had yet to speak or move or do anything but Tom was tense, his magic cloaking him almost protectively as his blood rushed in his veins and instincts told him to move/run/still-stay all at once. The air was crackling with energy as the low moans of the women ascended to clarion tones until all five were writhing on the ground, held down from moving further than several inches up from the floor by invisible chains. 

Martha was in the lead again as blood gave forth from between her legs and her screams reached a pyretic pitch, her belly moving and bulging as if a great snake was caught in the middle.

Tom watched as she spread her legs wider, nails leaving bloody indention on her skin as her opening dilated. A broad acuminated green tinged nostril pushed from her folds and Tom could only stare in fascinated rapture as a great snake was birthed amid blood and fluids, scales green, black and brown with two golden eyes, body growing wider the more it was pushed out until Martha was empty and ruined. 

He glanced from the exhausted woman to the huge snake that coiled around itself and rose up until it hovered a few inches away from Harry. 

"Give her a name Tom." Harry murmured and the huge snake turned to stare at him, golden eyes wide. 

It was a jerk reaction, a name spilling from his lips almost as quickly as she had been birthed into the world "Nagini." 

Tom quickly looked to the boy and saw the most beautiful smile upon his face, the flames from the candles illuminating the innocent countenance as he reached out to the great serpent and ran a gentle hand down the still wet head, the snake’s eyes closing as it leaned in closer. 

Tom was drawn from his inspection of the odd two, his hand still clenched tightly in Harry’s as Riley followed suit with an ejection of blood a wriggling medium sized dog was pushed out, it’s two siblings following quickly after and Tom could only stare as they grew in size. 

The soft bloody fur drying as their bodies expanded and elongated, small paws growing and baby blue eyes brightening to blood red, black armor like scales covering their heads, neck, and soft under bellies and sharp teeth filling the once toothless maws. Each canine trotted up to Harry with a whine, the waist high dogs lowering their heads when Harry reached for them to give attention. 

Lucy’s screams were by far the loudest out of the remaining women as she thrashed on the ground, blond hair slicked with sweat to her forehead and abruptly her screams stopped a second before her belly burst. Tom barely twitched as blood splattered on his face, clothes soaked with the woman’s life essence, no he was more focused on the human shaped creature clawing it’s way from her detonated belly, the flaps of skin hanging to the ground and the thing gave a very human like wail. 

It was almost the size of a seven year old, two stumped horns and bat wings airing themselves out. Wide depth-less black eyes turned to Tom, sharp teeth flashing before it crooned at Harry, legs unable to hold it up so it crawled, the placenta still attached. 

Bethanne was sobbing, her blue eyes watching the entire event with fear radiating from her being even as she struggled to do the same as her fellow women, breaths coming out in great huffs. Two thin hoofed legs were hanging out of her privates and she screamed when an invisible force pulled on the thing inside of her tearing her wider and wider until a black foal came out. Just like the hounds it grew quickly until a stallion peered down at Tom with bloody eyes, it’s mane made of fire and each leg flickering with a billowing flame. Bethanne was obviously dead and so his eyes turned to the final woman, Emily looking worse for wear as she gasped shallow breathes though her hands cradled the moving mound of her stomach. 

She gave birth to a very human baby, the new born much larger than any freshly birthed infant Tom had ever seen, it’s head full of wispy black hair and skin pale but chubby as he, because it was most definitely a he laid between it’s mother’s blood slicked thighs, umbilical cord still connecting the two together. 

“Be a dear and get my son for me Tom.” it was then that he noticed the hand in his was much larger and Tom looked up at the huge male, his black furred legs stomping once and up close the horns looked much pointier. 

Licking his dry lips Tom let his hand slip from Harry’s, the Devil’s eyes piercing the back of his head as he moved toward’s Emily who was barely hanging on and the moment the placenta was ejected the light in her eyes dimmed. 

Gathering the squirming babe in his arms, skin slicked and slippery and unnaturally heavy. Two bumps were on his forehead and already the human legs had the first glimmer of black fur lining them. Giving the wailing boy to Harry he stared as the half man half beast cradled the boy, patting his back until it settled. 

All five women were dead and no more than cooling corpses on the pentagram now. 

“You all must be hungry, go and eat your fill.” Harry’s voice as he was now resonated within Tom as the deep and slightly rumbling tone traveled from Tom’s toes, to his spine and then his head. 

The snake, stallion, ghoul and hell hounds moved at once to their respective mothers before tearing into their flesh, sharp teeth devouring the dead women. Bones cracked under the supernatural dentitions as everything including the hair was ingested. Harry stepped away from Tom, black clefts taking his massive body to Emily’s prone form and with a simple press his hand was elbow deep in her chest cavity to retrieve her heart while the baby was laid to suckle at her breasts. 

The heart, Tom discovered, was for him. 

Harry held out the still warm organ and Tom would be a fool to reject the offering of the being before him. 

Taking it in hand and careful to not drop it his brown eyes flickered up to the waiting beast, green eyes indifferent and expression unreadable. Bringing the muscle to his mouth he bit into it after a few seconds of hesitation, blood welling and sliding into his mouth and teeth struggling to tear through the organ, the toughness surprising Tom but soon enough he tore piece away, chewing the raw red several times before swallowing. 

He didn’t stop, biting and chewing with a growing savageness until his hands were empty and Harry was smiling the soft grin he reserved for special occasions and now for _Tom_. 

With a wave of his hand the pentagram glowed once more before lighting afire, the creatures sowed by Harry’s seed unharmed and Tom watched as they slowly sank into the fire, their bodies melting down and down until all that was left was scorched floor and a spreading fire. 

“You did well Tom.” 

Harry was back to his childlike form but the voice remained deep, his hands being taken and small pink tongue licked the traces of blood away from his palms not unlike a kitten to milk. 

“In the morning just as the sun is about to rise Wool’s Orphanage will burn to the ground killing all the members including staff. You will apparate to Diagon Alley, a bout of childish wandless magic. Dumbledore will question you and you shall tell him exactly this.” 

A hand was placed over his forehead and suddenly Tom felt incredibly sleepy. 

“You woke up because it felt too hot and when you opened your eyes you saw smoke coming under your door, upon opening it you saw the entire hallway aflame…” Harry’s voice drifted further and further away and Tom found himself _fallingfallingfalling_.

Dumbledore frowned down at the ash covered child, his hands slightly burned and clothing black in certain areas as Madam Abigail Pomfrey looked him over. The boy had paused in the retelling of his story, a dazed look slipping over his eyes and he frowned in confusion. 

“Mr. Riddle?” he intone made Tom jump, the medi-witch glaring at the professor slightly when Tom shivered. 

“I could hear the other children screaming for help and people outside in the streets shouting. The heat was unbearable sir and I could not breathe no matter how hard I tried. It hurt to breathe.” Tom shuddered again and huddled closer in on himself, dragging the blanket tighter to his frame. 

“I… I thought I was… I thought I was going to _die_.” Tom whispered and Dumbledore raised his chin to peer into his brown eyes, the memories of what occurred that very morning flashing in his own mind and he stepped back as he sorted through the jumble of conscious recollection. 

“I cannot begin to express to you Tom how happy I am you are alive. As unfortunate as it is the fate of your fellow orphans at the very least we have not lost you to the fire as well.” Dumbledore squeezed Tom’s shoulder and the boy nodded, shaky and uncertain but that was to expected of someone in a near death experience. 

Dumbledore had received a notification early that morning of a young boy smelling like smoke and terrified appearing in the middle of the alley and he had come to the sight of young Tom Riddle being comforted by an auror as the boy cried and cried, hyperventilating soon after and had to be placed unconscious. 

Now staring at the brunt husk of what was once a large building, muggles giving the area a wide berth as firemen and other muggles moved vaguely human-like figures from the ruins and placed them in bags at the back of a van. 

Shaking his head, a deep sorrow filling him and he sent a small prayer for those who died before returning back to Hogwarts where Mr. Riddle was asleep, an empty vial on the bedside table. 

“What a way to be welcomed to our world.” Abigail shook her head and gathered the empty vial in hand before tucking the sheet closer to Tom’s slumbering body. 

“What a way indeed…” he murmured. 

Tom dreamed of Harry that night as they danced in the dining hall of the burning orphanage, Harry changing forms at the elation of Tom’s demands. The fire tickled his bare feet and hands as Harry spun him around and around until he grew dizzy. 

The corpses of Hedrickson and Mrs. Cole were burning now, the smell of meat cooking filling the room and he could hear the children upstairs screaming, their doors and windows refusing to budge. 

Harry was big again and had Tom pressed against the wall, a small grin on his mature features where he was neatly slotted between Tom’s thighs and there Tom could feel something hard and hot. 

The sky was brightening beyond the windows and Tom in a rush of endorphins and giddy mirth leaned forward, his lips brushing over the beasts before Harry kissed him back, tongue demanding entrance that was given until Tom could not breathe and his skin felt all too tight as if he was about to burst from it. 

Outside Wool’s Orphanage was ravaged by fire and onlookers weeped as the tortured screams of the children filled the early morning, the smoke climbing to the heavens as the souls descended unknown to them.

* * *

“Then another angel, a third one, followed them, saying with a loud voice, If anyone worships the beast and his image, and receives a mark on his forehead or on his hand, he also will drink of the wine of the wrath of God, which is mixed in full strength in the cup of His anger;

and he will be tormented with fire and brimstone in the presence of the holy angels and in the presence of the Lamb. And the smoke of their torment goes up forever and ever; they have no rest day and night, those who worship the beast and his image, and whoever receives the mark of his name."

\- Revelation 14:9-11

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry about any spelling errors found.


End file.
